Last Thursday I had the most amazing, magic experience. I had just come from a long lovely lunch with my beautiful friend Natayla, and the snow had finally stuck in our part of town (the first few days it was bizarre: South Kensington was in like a no snow zone).
I was walking home thinking that there was no one out to street shoot, and I went into the garden - our wonderful, secret sunken garden. The garden is unique to all the garden squares in leafy London: it has a church in the middle, and is sunken below street level, and, surrounded by hedges, the same 'privits' that surrounded our childhood home, that in the summer flowers, giving off the most heady scent. That scent brings me straight back to my childhood with a power no words could describe. And it is totally hidden from the outside world.
I was just shooting this rose when I heard a voice calling 'Hello?' I was all alone in the garden and it was Sasha, with his girlfriend, Cecille. He explained that his grandmother used to live on the square, and they were visiting from Paris, and oh so politely, asked if he could show Cecille the garden that he had such happy memories in.
So I got my 'street shots' and showed him how to leave the locked gate ajar, so they could get out (it's locked both inside and out) and left them alone, so he could show her his childhood.
But here's the strange part: because it was cold, I only told them my details, altho he offered his. And I haven't heard from them, and have no idea how to reach them. It almost feels like my imagination. I haven't had a chance to go back to the garden since, so perhaps they're still there.
. . .
p.s. Just heard from Cécile (I spelled her AND Sacha's names wrong) - they're back in Paris and I love the way she writes English with the little French twists like 'your story of this aprés afternoon in this garden is fabulous' and 'Thank you for this memory in picure of London'. I'll hopefully see them again sometime soon: they'd be such great subjects to do a shoot with together.